


Celebration of us

by NotPersephone



Series: Count and Countess Lecter [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, bedannibalprompts, happy marrieds in Lecter Castle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 15:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: “I have been saving this for a special occasion,” Hannibal presents Bedelia with the bottle and her eyes scrutinize the label.“I thought we are not celebrating New Year’s Eve,” she comments as he pours her a glass, the ruby hue of Pinot Noir splashing soundlessly around the bowl.





	Celebration of us

It is twenty minutes before midnight on New Year’s Eve, when silent steps of bare feet descend the marble stairs, all the way down to the cellar. A flip of a switch brings the newly fitted lights on the ceiling to life at once, illuminating the half-naked man standing in the doorway. Hannibal’s eyes survey the space before him. The wine cellar is freshly refurbished and reorganised, but only a section of the shelves is filled with bottles at present; Hannibal intends to change that once the winter is over. But for now, his mind is not preoccupied with future arrangements. He walks straight to the last shelf in the corner, where a single bottle has been hidden, waiting patiently to be retrieved from its years of sleep.

Hannibal brushes off the remnants of the dust from the label, revealing the well-known Lecter Dvaras crest. It is the oldest vintage he found while cataloguing the contents of the cellar, almost like an only remaining member of his old family. It feels appropriate to have saved it and share with his wife. Hannibal smiles at the thought, turns off the light and proceeds to the kitchen. He uncorks the bottle with care and inhales deeply, satisfied that the wine has retained its fragrant bouquet. He allows it to breathe while he takes two glasses and then returns to the bedroom.

His steps stop in the doorway. He sees her standing by the tall window, a small shadow against the white winter panorama outside. Bedelia turns upon hearing his steps; the perfect profile of her face illuminated brilliantly by the light of the moon, a flawless line of her neck all the way down to the luscious mounds of her breasts. Her open silk robe is hanging carelessly on her shoulders, as if ready to disappear with the slightest of touches.

Having taken his fill of the view, Hannibal enters the room and joins her. He hands her one of the glasses and cannot stop himself from caressing the delicate underside of her breast with his forefinger. Her skin is as soft as ever, making him almost forget about the wine. Or rather the glasses; he would much prefer to drink it off her body. After the toast, he composes himself while biting his lower lip in anticipation.

“I have been saving this for a special occasion,” Hannibal presents Bedelia with the bottle and her eyes scrutinize the label.

“I thought we are not celebrating New Year’s Eve,” she comments as he pours her a glass, the ruby hue of Pinot Noir splashing soundlessly around the bowl.

“We are not,” he responds simply before filling his own glass. Bedelia gives him an unconvinced stare and slowly twirls the stem of her glass.

“We are celebrating us,” he clarifies, looking at her with a wide smile and a heartful gaze.

“Well, it is your wine after all,” Bedelia concedes as her fingers trace the crest on the bottle in his hand.

“ _Our_ wine,” he counters at once, putting the bottle down and watching with delight as a smile blooms on her lips. He treasures each of her smiles, more exquisite than any piece of art he had ever witnessed and, most importantly, meant for him only.

“To us then,” she lifts her glass, her eyes now gleaming with affection.

“To our future,” Hannibal meets her glass with a softest of clinks. They savour their drinks in silence; Hannibal is content with the palette and he can tell that Bedelia is as well.

Finally, she places the glass on her vanity and steps closer to him, her hands resting on his stomach, her neck arched back, her nose pointed up and her eyes looking at him intently. Hannibal knows this is her way of telling him she wants to be kissed; he puts his glass aside at once and his arms encase her, lifting her up with practiced ease, until her face is levelled with his.

Bedelia smiles again, pleased with his swift response and wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.

“ _Mano_ _Grafienė,”_ he murmurs against her lips and he kisses her back with equal ardour.

“ _Laimingų Naujųjų Metų_ ,” she whispers in his ear while he walks back, holding her firmly in his arms, until they reach the bed.

Somewhere in the castle, the clock strikes midnight almost soundlessly. In the far distance, beyond the forest, singular fireworks reach high enough to light up their sky. But all of this is lost on Hannibal as his mouth savours Bedelia’s skin, thinking that not even the best vintage could ever taste as good as her.

**Author's Note:**

> The Lithuanian phrases mean "My Countess" and "Happy New Year." It took me a moment to find a proper word for Countess, Google Translate failed miserably.  
> Happy New Year everyone! Here's to another year of bedannibal love and fun. With more Count and Countess for sure. Love you! ♥♥


End file.
